I AM BECKY
As a child, whenever I would get into trouble, my parents would call my name REBECCA LEE! When they were pleased with me, they would call me Becky. My father even made a song for me, “Becky Lee, Becky Lee, sweetest girl I’ve ever known.” My sister Donna still sings that to me to this day only she puts it in our emails as “BLBLSGIEK.”
I like the name Becky, it is part of a persona I’ve tried to develop over the years. A kind individual who never says no to her friends and loved ones. Rebecca does come out from time to time as an alter ego who can be cruel as she lashes out at people who make her angry and has a wicked sense of humor that some seem to enjoy.
That was at least until today when I found out that my name, like “Karen” had been linked to a behavior I abhor. The privileged behavior that I’ve seen in people (both male an female) who think they have the right to get in the faces of others and, with hatred and anger and spittle frothing from their mouths, tell others what they can or can’t do.
I was not raised to appreciate the differences in ourselves and people of color. My parents, raised in a different era, had opinions of their own that conflicted with my religious beliefs as in do to others what you would have them do to you. Matthew 7:12 NIV
I learned early on how nice people of color can be when I started riding the bus to school. We lived in a small apartment on the outskirts of Highland Park in Dallas, Texas. My family was new to Dallas and my parents wanted us to be in the best location they could provide. Highland Park is a place with multi-million dollar homes and manicured lawns that brandies their own police force who would stop others for walking through the parks when they “didn’t belong there.”
I rode to Highland Park High School every morning on the bus and that ride became a very important part of my day. During those rides, I met some of the kindest people I had ever known, ladies who were on their way to work in those mansions. They always made room for me on the bus, always greeted me and always wanted to know how I was getting along in school. These ladies listened to my teenage woes and taught me how to persevere when things didn’t go my way. They were nothing like the people my parents claimed were out to hurt me. I reiterate, they were kind.
When I went into the classroom as a teacher, I found my best friends to be the ones who supported me and held my hand in times of trouble.
When I went to work in the Science Department, it was under the tutelage of Narvella West I leared how to be a “servant-leader” as I worked with teachers across the district. Also, when I lost my son to diabetes, Deidra Lewis Collins showed me how to work through grief and despair and still continue to function on a day to day basis.
When my mother died, Marian Alfeia Williams was the only one of my colleagues who came to her funeral and spoke so eloquently about the fruits of the spirit and our lives.
I thank all of these women now, who were kind, who brought me hope, who helped me through the really tough times of my life. And I am glad to say because of them, I am able to say my name might be Becky, but I am by no means a “Becky” who thinks she is better than anyone else.
Thank you, ladies, for being there for me when I needed you the most. May the Lord bless and keep you all.
I said I didn’t want the desk. Didn’t need it as a reminder of all the chaos of growing up as a child. We’d moved so often, left so much behind; friends, family, an old piano that mother loved.
hance. The first thing I did was call my sister to find out if she would like to go as well. When she agreed, I grabbed those tickets with both hands and feet! By the time the tickets arrived in the mail, my sister had opted out and my husband had opted in. Bless his heart ❤
According to the Merriam-Webster online dictionary, a mother is:
becky's getaway 